


A place for us

by eiphemode



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Drunk Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, Fluff, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Pre-Relationship, Protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, i guess it's kind of angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiphemode/pseuds/eiphemode
Summary: When things get out of control, Adrien babysits a visibly drunk Marinette.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 11
Kudos: 205





	A place for us

**Author's Note:**

> Because putting a drunk person to sleep has never been an easy task.

“I can tooootoly beat your ass.” Marinette giggled, a half-choked noise close to a hiccup spurred at the hearing of her stumbled words.

Adrien brought his folded legs closer to his chest, forearms resting over his knees, and chuckled, a pinch of delight as he observed the way Marinette’s upper body bent forward ─her back no longer supported by the wall behind─ and lurched slightly to her right.

“I’m aware.” he clarified, overly smug “I just ask why you said that.”

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes, reacting like it was really a matter to be offended to.

Thin strip of light seeped through the cracks of the door. Golden patters and geometric shapes were getting draw on the laminate flooring, wide enough to prevent the room from becoming completely dark and frame smooth shadows over their features.

Muffled sounds filled the place: soft chatter; upbeat music rumbling around the walls, glass clinking and thuds from the people passing by.

An easy-going atmosphere.

“I never said you couldn’t, my lady.” Adrien added, a softer timber coating his words.

His answer set a quizzical expression over her face. If Adrien had to guess, she was arranging herself into a straight line of thought in order to prove that she, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, wasn’t as drunk as everyone ─and mostly him─ proclaimed.

A few seconds of pure expectation passed when she snapped back, laughing again, and nudging his ankle with her foot.

The boy settled down in a more comfortable position ─back pressed against the edge of the bed, muscles cramped by the hardness of the ground─ and raised his eyebrows, an inquisitive glow in his gaze.

“Yeah, but like…” she struggled, the premise of her alleged sobriety falling apart before his eyes “Like…you have this _thing_ , you know?”

Adrien didn’t know, actually. And he wasn’t getting the whole point of their argument, either.

A loud smash followed by a burst of laughs came from the living room. Adrien frowned, glancing at the closed door.

Maybe throwing a party at his newly purchased apartment and delegate any type of control on his not-so-sober friend, wasn’t one of his most intelligent ideas. However, he was far too occupied looking after a visibly drunk Marinette to care, especially since the only rational person left in the building was Alya, and Alya’s main source of focus was on cleaning her best friend’s mess like the mother hen she was.

And maybe not keeping an eye on what or how much Marinette had been drinking that night was a mistake, too.

With that last notion crawling into his mind, his first ulterior motives looked for a way to return into discussion.

“I think you should sleep, Mari.” Adrien murmured, mirroring her movements, and nudged her back with his foot.

The space between the wall and the bed was narrow and not the most convenient place to rest, if not uncomfortable. But Marinette refused profusely to stay anywhere else in the room, so they managed to lay their twisted bodies on the floor despite the numbness in their limbs and the insidious pain in the ass.

“Don’t change the subject, chaton,” she jolted, and pointed at him with an accusatory finger to emphasize her statement “I can totatly dooo.”

The blond leaned closer ─an amused smirk on his face─ and caught her finger in mid-air. She gasped, dramatically, and Adrien interlocked her blue eyes into his own.

“My lady: you can totally, absolutely, _positively_ beat my ass with no discussion.” he assured solemnly, letting his fingers travel down her palm and stroke her wrist gently as the reaffirmation sank in Marinette’s head. And after a sharp intake of breath, for the nth time in the last hour, he added “Now, what about grabbing a little shut-eye, huh?”

The girl let out a groan and pushed herself up, suddenly breaking their contact and getting out of her spot.

“Pleaseeeee.” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest “How many times I have to tell you that I’m fiiiiine.”

As many times as necessary.

Surges of alarm thrilled across his body by the sudden switch of demeanor, but Adrien did not act upon his inkling this time, focusing on study her movements instead of rushing into the wrong conclusions.

He really didn’t want to accidentally tackle her again.

“But that’s not what you said forty-five minutes ago.” he responded, not quite still, frowning at her from his side on the floor “That’s why we bring you here in the first place.”

Her body balanced for a split second before she could rest its weight on the wall, setting more alarms in Adrien’s head.

“No waay,” she slurred. “I did not say _that_.”

“You felt asleep on the toilet,” he patiently remarked. “Pretty sure that’s enough proof, isn’t it?”

A big, loud guffaw scaped from her lips. “ _Ups_.”

That was an understatement, to say the least.

It began as a peaceful meeting with some friends, chill drinking games and blazing conversations cheering their night. And to be fair, Marinette didn’t catch that much of attention from the start because, as a matter of fact, she always had proven to be a clumsy, kind of-an-affectional, innocent drinker. Ergo, it was to be expected that she would become a loud, uncoordinated, huggable person, competent enough to take care of herself without any kind of double-checking.

But something went astronomically wrong and neither Adrien nor Alya knew exactly what got their friend into such an intoxicated state.

They didn’t realize it until she hit her head against the dinner table.

And threw up after that.

Several times.

“Do you need something?” Adrien quickly stood up, his gaze cautiously flickering between the girl and the doorknob “You look pale.”

It was a lie. Sort of. But he needed to maintain her distracted.

Against all odds, looking after Marinette ended up being an exhausting task, especially since she somehow decided ─No, _stated_ ─ she was no longer tired or sick, and the amount of times she tried to escape from the room out of sight was getting extremely ridiculous at that point of the night.

And he knew his lady well enough to assure she wasn’t willing to stop just because he asked her to nicely, far less under these particular circumstances.

“’m cold, chaton.” she grumbled, rubbing her bare arms in places where goosebumps started to show up. “Where is my jackeeeet?”

He narrowed his eyes, his uneasiness not quite deflated.

“Alya changed your clothes earlier, remember?” he pointed out, tilting his head towards her outfit.

Confused, Marinette peered down at her clothes, frowning at the sudden realization that they were, indeed, different from the ones she was wearing when she just arrived at his apartment.

“But why?”

Faint pink blush colored Adrien’s cheeks as he averted his eyes away from her, the quick vision of the girl casually playing with the hem of her borrowed t-shirt ─his t-shirt─ making him baffled out of the blue.

He felt stupid.

“They got covered with vomit after you threw up.” he cleared up with a sheepish grimace.

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed further, not understanding the issue yet.

And for what it’s worth, there weren’t many reasons to elaborate on a more extended version of the story, because as far as Adrien suspected, it was a useless thing to try since the chances of Marinette remembering a single word from their conversations were extremely low.

(It wouldn’t be that fun, either.

Sinful hangovers and walks of shames ─in the good sense of words─ were always a thing he could tease about the mornings after).

“Alya is probably cleaning them right now.” he prompted, giving her an inquiring look.

Something seemed to click inside her head as an expression full of fondness spilled over her face, lips curved into a tender smile as she cooed, “Aw, that’s so sweet.”

Safe bet it was.

After such unexpected turn of events, Alya grabbed her best friend’s wrist and dragged her into the bathroom, far from the scrutiny of the closest guests. The commotion lasted just a couple of seconds before a tipsy Nino yelled at anyone around that there was nothing else to be seen, while Adrien frantically searched for cleaning products somewhere inside the kitchen, any hint of his own drunkenness left aside. And when he finally got the chance to checked up the girls, he found an ajar door and the sight of Alya caressing Marinette’s back as she blurted a plethora of apologetic cries towards the toilet.

So indeed, Alya was a very sweet and attentive friend, who’d be pretty angry if she ended up finding her friend wandering around the room instead of resting beneath the blankets of Adrien’s bed.

“Yeah, you should thank her later,” he concluded, shoulders relaxing once it was more than clear that her intentions were innocent this time. “She was really worried, though. We almost considered the idea of─”

His speech was cut off mid-sentence once he spotted a shiver from the girl standing in front of him, a sudden reminder of what she had been requesting in the first place.

Chill breeze from an oncoming autumn sneaked through the slits of the half-open window, making the room felt presumably cold. And maybe the lack of curtains or carpets ─or something minimally related─ wasn’t helping to the situation either.

(It’s not like Adrien was counting the number of things that were wrong with his place, not when he had other important, substantial issues to deal with at the very present moment.

Like a drunken friend shivering in the cold.)

“Hold on.” he said without much of an explanation.

With squinted eyes and hesitant steps, the blond crept along the dimly lit room as he made his way towards the closet, bumping his leg against the corner of the bed before he could reach the closet door and open it, their scattered shoes on the ground hampering his mission.

Seeing nothing but a pile of clothes hidden in the dead of night seemed like an issue he might really have had into consideration before. Adrien should have tried harder on keeping his clothes tidy since the move, apparently.

(Then again, _who was counting?_ )

A muffled curse scape through his teeth as his hand fumbled around the shelves until a fluffy, familiar bundle came into his possession.

“Gotcha!” he exclaimed with proud, wrenching a black hoodie away and letting it hang triumphantly on his hand.

“Uh, what is that?” the girl asked as she skirted around the bed, getting close to the boy, eyes glimmering with curiosity. “Oh, It’s cute!”

“Here,” Adrien extended his arm. “I hope it helps.”

Marinette didn’t say anything in response. She stared at the piece of clothes, deep in thoughts, as if her previous outgoing state never existed. And by the time Adrien decided to shyly clear his throat to drag her attention back, she spoke again in confusion. “Is that for me?”

“Well, yes?” It came out like a hesitant question. He caressed his nape ─ a sudden gesture of self-awareness ─ and meet her gaze. “I─I’m not quite sure where your jacket is, sorry.”

Her face lit up in excitement.

“Don’t worry, minou! It’s perfect.” The girl vigorously took the hoodie, her skin slightly brushing over his, and clumsily struggled with the seams while she put the garment on. “Thank you.”

Adrien’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. An odd mixture of nervousness, affection, and that thing he could never quite put a finger on made his heart pump strongly within his ribs and his chest _ache_ with longing.

“Anytime.” he mumbled, dazed.

It was silly how much he cared about her.

Embarrassing, even. The way he always got stuck in an endless loop whenever he looked at her longer than necessary, the lovesick urge hitting him ruthlessly more often than not.

 _Pathetic_ , was the most accurate term to describe it.

When he found himself at mere inches apart from her ─tiptoes touching, warm friction from bodies in contact, skin glimmering beneath the faint moonlight─ the pit of his stomach clenched hard in submission. Adrien’s gaze flicked through her baggy attire, the smeared mascara under her eyes and the damp ends of her tousled dark hair.

 _Beautiful_ , he wanted to say.

Instead, he reached out and tossed aside an unruly lock on Marinette’s forehead.

“There.” he said, voice lower. “Now, go back to bed.”

Perhaps for the first time, she listened to him.

It didn’t mean it was a completely cooperative gesture.

Marinette helplessly giggled and rambled and tripped over like a toddler before she could properly lay down on the bed, face buried in a pillow. Adrien followed her behind, settling himself beside her body, face up and eyes closed in relief, spreading his legs along the mattress.

“You good, bugaboo?” he lifted his eyelids, slowly, to check her up. Something close to an affirmation emerging from the cushion “Alright.”

They both reminded quiet.

Adrien stared at the ceiling, toying with his ring as his hands rested on his stomach. Aside from the murmur across the corridor, they were plunged into an uncomfortable silence.

Nevertheless, minutes later, the mattress bounced lightly under their bodies as he felt Marinette inching forward; a leg resting against his own, a hand making its way through his shoulder. Soft breathing and waves of warmth skimming over his hair.

His muscles went rigid.

“I think Alya is mad at me.” she whispered.

Adrien swallowed and turned his head.

Marinette was lying on her side, fingertips playing with the folds of his sleeve, eyes focusing on her task. Some stray hairs trickled his cheeks and the fruity scent of shampoo hit his nose.

“Why is that so?” he muttered, voice stained by their nearness.

“I dunno.” she retorted. “She seemed pretty angry.”

Guilty speeches and ridiculous discussions aside, Adrien agreed to take care of their friend once she was dressed up and ready to sleep, while Alya finished the cleaning part by herself. And although the girl was on the verge of paranoia when she left them alone in the room, the reasons underneath her uneasiness were beyond Marinette’s fault.

“I assure you, m’lady. She loves you too much to be upset.” he smiled, hopping his words would be cheering enough to calm her down.

Marinette winkled her nose in response and slid an arm around his chest, placing her chin over his shoulder.

“Guess you’re right.” Marinette commented. “She’s so nice.”

“I know.” He fixed their position, moving the arm stuck beneath her body in such a way he could gently wrap her waist instead. The cushion bounced again as the smooth rustle of friction from the duvet beneath them filled his ears.

Marinette kept rambling the same way she did since they entered the bedroom. Adrien let himself relax, listening her slurred praises about her friend, overjoyed by their nonsenses, slowly succumbing into his own fatigue.

“I’m wounded, bugaboo.” he joked a few minutes later as his hand caressed the waistband of her sweatpants. “What about me, your loyal and amazing partner in crime?”

“Don’t be silly, minou,” She snickered and snuzzled closer onto his body, her crown now resting under his chin, her arm tightening the embrace. “Yu’r the beeest.”

“Flattered.”

“’m serious.” she continued, almost in a whisper. “You’re so nice, and so pretty, and I love you so much.”

By all means, years of partnership and blind trust had taught him that innocent displays of love were customary between them, such as platonic hugs and comfort phrases.

But warm stirred within his heart and veins throbbed in a way he rather chose to ignore.

“You’re pretty, too.” he spluttered, dumbfounded ─That flutter inside his stomach getting fiercer like a warning sign─ and wanted to slap himself for his poor choice of words.

“Thanks, Adrien.” she said in a slow, quiet tone. “But you are prettier.”

He just laughed.

The wall broke a long time ago, but remained pieces still hampered their attempts to build a relationship beyond limits. The no longer secrecy of their identities dragged a new set of unexpected boundaries of which neither of them had the courage to bring up.

And it seemed like a fair agreement back then, when those events took place and their heads were on the wrong state of mind, so “time" was a thing he desperately needed to have in the name of his own sanity.

“Looks like someone is finally sleepy.” he commented, placing his free hand over her back, well aware of the fact he was redirecting their conversation into a less compromising one.

Unlike his, Marinette’s chest moved at a steady pace.

“Uh-uh.” she hummed in appreciation ─the vibrations sinking through his neck ─ and curved her mouth into a smile. “you’re cozy.”

“I can tell.” he chuckled, pocking one of her shoulder blades in a teasing way. “Good night, bug. And good luck with that hangover, because is gonna be the death of you tomorrow.”

There wasn’t a reply, but Adrien couldn’t assure she had fallen asleep yet.

He resisted the urge to yawn, though.

Early morning classes, last-minute supermarket races and a lot of deep cleaning didn’t past inadvertent for his body after all. And now that the last bits of adrenaline were swooping down into reasonable level of functioning, his eyes were starting to get heavy and itchy.

However, within his embrace, Marinette stirred and her fingertips fondled over the stiches on his wool sweater, removing him from his brief self-absorption.

“Oh, so you are still awake.” he slightly tried to peer down to see her face, “What’s on your mind, my lady?”

“Just thinking.” she responded, fingers moving in a soft pace. “I think we should get marry, y’ know?”

His blinked. “What?”

“A wedding.” she repeated and pressed her face against him in a way Adrien could recognize as amusement.

Not the most revealing news, he might admit.

At some point of their twisted destiny, within the confines of lonely alleys and disguised walks along the Seine, an eighteen years old Ladybug confided her most embarrassing dreams; the ones that included silly crushes and silly weddings and a lot of silly planning from an even younger, infatuated, version of herself.

And they’d joked about it. A lot. They had come up with weird scenarios and foolhardy decision making, a would-you-rather game that became ludicrous as the imagination flew freely. And he learnt because of it that she rather preferred exchange her vows at the sewers instead of allowing the groom to wear a banana costume in all her wedding pictures.

Eventually, as many of the things that hovered the limits of awkwardness, they stopped doing it two months ago, when a mortifying, completely unintended, slip of the tongue revealed that he ─Adrien Agreste him─ was included in many of Marinette’s fantasizes.

She expressed her regret immediately, of course. But then, with flustered cheeks and clammy hands, he discreetly, low-key, shyly pointed out how much he used to share that feeling about her, too.

Just to be on hand.

“We could have a casual wedding at the bakery.” She kept her babbling going. “I’d design a huge, but like, _really huge_ dress with lots of flowers and rhinestone details. And you could wear whatever you want ‘cause you always look good in anything, but I bet you’d look handsome on a suit.”

Old habits die hard, apparently.

“That’s─ You’ve been thinking on this for a while, don’t you?”

Maybe the idea wasn’t practical enough. Not even coherent. But aside from how ridiculous it sounded out loud, Adrien found himself curious, eagerly wanting to hear how far it would go.

“We can do other things if you want. Like…” she pondered, struggling again with her thoughts. “Like, I dunno… sleep.”

Adrien’s hand reached her hair and started combing it. “Sleep on our wedding?”

“No! What the fuck, Adrien?”

“Sorry, my bad.” he apologized, containing his amusement, his thumb brushing lightly the shell of her ear. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, a lot of purple flowers.”

He furrowed his brow.

“You like _pur_ -ple, m’lady?”

Marinette lift herself up just enough to have a better view of his face. In another time, her eyes would roll up at the intended pun and he would ask for forgiveness insincerely. Now, glassy and blotchy, they were staring in contemplative silence as he returned the gesture.

Her hand absent-mindedly traveled to his collar, and her voice came so quiet and velvety that for a hesitant moment, his eyelids fluttered. “Um, kinda? They remain me─” She paused, alarmed. “Shit, no. We can’t use that.”

“Why?” he asked, feeling lightheaded.

Her face was full concern. “What if fucking hawkmoth use them to akumatize people?”

There was breathless pause before Adrien could find his answer.

“He won’t, Mari.” he assured almost unwillingly. “Don’t worry.”

It never came to his mind it would be much harder once the heroes of Paris defeated Hawkmoth, but who would have predicted that above his neglectful childhood, laid an atrocious father?

He’d be lying if he said that the matter didn’t sting like hell anymore.

Because if things had turned out differently, maybe _they_ would be in a different position, too.

Maybe he wouldn’t had to spend his Friday afternoons crying over his memories at therapy. Maybe he wouldn’t needed to wait a little longer on pursuing a relationship with the love of his life for the sake of good ─rational─ decisions.

Maybe they wouldn’t had to put the healing process on top of anything else.

On top of whatever they could had.

But whether it was Adrien’s way to cope or something he had acquired over the months; the thoughts didn’t wander any further. Instead, he released a deep sigh and gave her a weak smile in replacement of his annoyance.

“Right, chaton.” Marinette shyly smiled in return, and Adrien sensed it was because of regret. “But we’ll have pink flowers instead, just in case.”

He winked and gently grab her hand.

“I think you should make an effort if you wanna put a ring on me, bugaboo.” he bantered, a sly smirk on his mouth.

“Oh, Adrien. That would be lovely.” she giggled, lowering her head back to his collarbone. “But just so you know, I’m gonna marry Chat Noir.”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Chat Noir?”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

“Who does, then?” he inquired, prompting her by interlacing their fingers and giving them a weak squeeze, the cold metal of his ring lightly pinching onto her knuckles.

Marinette nuzzled forward, lips brushing against the hot flesh of his neck, warm puffs of air heating up his skin as she talked, “I like when you hold my hand.”

He snorted at the sudden change of topic, but in lieu of pushing it straightaway, he paid attention to their steady heartbeats and closed his eyes, giving himself in the tenderness of her body pressed against his.

“We should date” she continued, so low he barely heard it. “So we could cuddle in my bed.”

“Dating is not a requirement to cuddle, you know?”

“And kiss, too. God, you didn’t let me finish.” she responded, a bit irritated, but the tiredness in her voice was evident. “I want you to kiss me, chaton.”

Inwardly, Adrien was loudly, viscerally screaming in all caps how much he really, really, _really_ wanted to, too.

But _God_ he was a decent human being, and decent human beings did not take advantage of drunk people.

“Among other things.” she added, and Adrien's lungs stopped working.

With his eyes still shut, he tentatively brought up his lips over her forehead. “What if we talk about his tomorrow, Mari?”

“I want to tell you now.”

“I get it.” he breathed against her skin. “But now it’s not the time.”

She decided to ignore it.

“I want to be your girlfriend.” Marinette responded in a hurry. “We could have so much fun together and─”

“Mari.” he repeated, earnest, warning tinting his tone.

“Is that a bad thing?”

A firm, bright no blazed into his head like a neon sign.

For better or worse, in the depth of his naivest teenage fantasies, he daydreamed about the yearning of a stealthy love above rooftops and secret hideaways like a never-ending story.

Always perfect, always simple.

And when Marinette Dupain-Cheng walked into the scene, pictures of themselves sharing drowsy morning kisses in bed or soft pecking on the lips as they greet each other on late-night patrols or silly laughing after awkward dates were a thing he eagerly craved for every day.

But Adrien could physically feel the way his guilt travelled upwards his throat as her words dangerously oozed like a genuine confession. And such predicament only guided him to one conclusion: he wasn’t willing to take it.

Not there, where darkness did not allow them to see their faces clearly.

Not now, when she didn’t intend to suggest them in the first place.

Even when the weight of his unspoken confession still lingered behind.

“I really loved it, bugaboo.” he rushed in a whisper, eyes opened, mouth dried. “You’re just not sober enough to have this conversation.”

“I am.” she huffed.

“You are not.” he stated, though he sounded at the edge of impatience. “And this seems like something we should seriously talk about in the morning.”

“Adrien, I-” she trailed off, a ting of disappointment washing her plea.

“Tomorrow.” he emphasized, tightening their embrace. 

“Fine.” she conceded.

“I will keep my word, I promise.” he placed a tender kiss on her crown. “Is that okay?”

A sluggish nod followed his question.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Sweet dreams, Marinette.”

Those were the last words they exchanged that night.

Background noises echoed through his ears ─the unmistakable tell-tale of a setting playing out beyond those four walls─ and Adrien wondered when he would be prepared to fulfill his promises.

So far, Marinette had been patient, even when the lines started to blur and the issue grew into an almost unbearable burden. And he wasn’t oblivious to the shift in the air whenever they catch a beam of acknowledgment and her eyes glowed fervently, anxiously awaiting trouble.

But they were caught in limbo, lost in a thick fog of many ruminations and little doing.

And almost desperately, Adrien get used to seeking green lights in every gesture Marinette could give and every moment they could share, as his urge to find determination got stronger.

Easy touches. Shameless ugly laughs and embarrassing disclosures of honesty. Holding hands in tights spaces among hurried crowds at the metro, or complicity looks after awfully inside jokes, or late-night talks on balconies until past midnight.

Like now, while huddled around Adrien’s arms, Marinette’s hold loosened, dozing off against his body.

Adrien exhaled a hopeful sigh.

Maybe he was ready to make his move.

After all, if one thing was clear to him, it is that there will always be a place waiting for them.

Later on, lulled by mellow breaths and wishful promises, Adrien fell asleep too.

What a grumpy Marinette Dupain-Cheng didn’t expect the next day, was a very decided Adrien Agreste finally confessing his undying love for her.

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this fic! I didn't expect it would be this long, honestly, but I had so much fun writing it.
> 
> (English is not my first language, so my writing may have some mistakes. I'm still working on it c: )


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